A hand touches my neck gently. “What be wrong with him?” The voice is familiar. I barely make out a blurry outline of a dark-skinned man.

Someone touches the shaft in my leg. I shiver at the pain even with the slight pressure.

“A silver bolt. He should be dead.”

“He’s a half-blood. The other blood in his system is fighting to stay alive,” Heather says. She must have shifted back.

“Heather.” There is deep relief mingled with joy and affection in the single word. The brown-eyed man, or the shape that I think to be him, rises to hug the Shifter.

With how old he is, he must be her father. But if so, how is she Kursk? My brain isn't up to snuff with all the weird happenings in this town.

A smile comes to my face as I realize they are safe. My eyes flutter closed as it gets harder to breathe and it reduces my heartbeat to a lethargic thump. My lungs can't seem to find enough air, as if I’m strangling on my breath. A rushing fills my ears, much like the waterfall my brother went over.

“We must get him to Healer Morgana. Now!” Heather barks. “His organs are shutting down.”

That’s the reason it’s so hard to breathe.

Sir Giant lifts me as easily as if I were a pup. My breath hitches as my ribs poke me, the silver burns like liquid ice in my veins, and the knife in my chest seems to twist deeper with each gigantic step of the man. I whimper.

“Easy now, brave wee one. Stay with me,” he says, rushing through the streets and leaving behind dark blurs that could be people or could be wraiths coming for my soul.

Wee one. Hah. I'm larger than most orcs. That's saying something. Ever met an orc? Yeah, they stink and they're big. But they're also nicer than you'd think. Just... don't make one mad. I still have the scar from that one.

Scents of herbs mingling with fresh bread tease my senses. I don't know how long it’s been since I ate. The warmth of the sunrise blankets my shoulders before we duck into a building that smells of poultices and healing herbs. I sneeze as the scent of fresh mint tickles my nose. A low whimper escapes when Giant puts me on a hard table. The scent of lemon balm cannot mask the coppery blood on the hard wood of my current bed. My eyelids feel heavy, sluggishly drifting shut.

~~~

I wake to deep, throbbing pain in my leg. There’s a woman I don’t know pressing on the knife wound in my chest. My hand shoots out and grabs her neck.

“Where... am I?” My voice is a mere whisper. I don’t know when I shifted back. I barely remember being a wolf before.. this.

“Shifter, you’re a’right.” I look to find a familiar giant of a man with green eyes, a gleaming bald head, and tattoos. “You need to let the healer be.” He sets a gentle, yet solid hand on the arm holding the lady.

I follow his gaze to the woman who smells of earthy herbs and sunshine with a tickling hint of something beneath I can't quite define. She is wheezing beneath my hold, wrinkled face as red as a beet, barely able to draw any breath at all. I abruptly remember the battle and release the healer.

She gasps and stumbles back into the wall as she draws in one panicked breath after another. Her wrinkled skin is puckered as she hacks in air, her dark grey hair pulled into a tight bun on the top of her head.

My heart clenches in guilt. Perhaps I am the monster everyone believes. I attacked an unarmed healer... one who was helping me, no less.

Without proper thought, and perhaps somewhat due to shock, I roll off the table. As soon as my feet hit the ground, my legs quiver like jello, then give like noodles.

The giant catches under my shoulders before I land in a heap on the ground. “Where do ya think you’re goin'?”

He searches my face, but I find I cannot meet his gaze. His boots are easier to look at, bloodstained and all.

“I’m a... monster. You are safer.” I wheeze in enough breath just to cough it out again. “Without me.”

Dramatic much? my internal voice says.

Shut up.

The Giant picks me up and deposits me on the table as smoothly as he is able, careful of my ribs and leg. Despite this, sharp pain stabs through me and I grunt.

“You just be saving the whole town and nearly died doin’ it. Let us help you,” he says, eyes watching me for something I'm not sure I can give.

“He’s right, ya know,” the healer rasps out from a bruised throat. The guilt grows.

“I’m... sorry,” I whisper.

She coughs, but waves away my apology. “Don’t be. I haven’t worked on wild animals without bein' bit before.” I wince at the analogy, but she just chuckles. “Looks like ya would’ve been better had ya stayed wild.”

She pats my shoulder with a softness that defies belief and somehow encourages a feeling of warmth in my chest where I thought only icy coldness remained. Despite that, I get a hint of danger from the old woman that makes my skin prickle where she touched.

A wheezy chuckle steals my breath and makes me want to curl up, run away, and die all at once. Survive or die trying, as the Masters always said.

She presses deeply on the wound near my heart, then packs it with a healing mixture of scents I can’t quite define.

I gasp as shivers begin anew. My eyes flutter closed, my body saying I've finally pushed it too far.

“I know, sweetheart. Don’t give up on me, now.”

Sweetheart? Despite the pain, the endearment makes humor flare in my chest. Doesn't she know what I am?

She finishes packing the gaping knife wound with thoroughly sterilized rags. The stinging tint of tea tree wafts up my nose and into my brain, giving me a killer of a headache on top of all this. The softer, sweeter scent of yarrow and the bitterness of plantain mixed with the complicated earthiness of comfrey also color the air from the poultice.

Her fingers pry open my eyes. She swims before my hazy gaze with both compassion and empathy marking her wrinkled features.

“You’ll survive this yet,” she says, her features conveying pure confidence as she pats my cheek like a matronly grandmother.

No, you won’t. Pain and Despair scream at me. This is too much. Just give up now. It'll all be over soon.

You will make it through. I know you. A calm voice arises in me and quails the other voices trying to drown me in their hopelessness. I grasp firmly to the hope it is offering, for I have nothing else left.

Great. Other voices. I'm feeling crowded up here, my usual snarky, unwanted companion says.

This is my brain. How do you think I feel? I respond, my lips tipping in a smile before I can exactly explain why.

Just don't die. For whatever reason, I'd almost consider that a hint of concern in the snarky comment.

Not planning on it.

“Tim, I’ll need more help to hold him as I remove the arrow,” the healer says to the giant.

The giant, Tim, turns on his heel and walks out, bending so he doesn't hit his forehead on the doorframe. He really must be part giant, being nearly eight feet tall.

I focus on his pounding footsteps until they’re out of range of my hearing, over six blocks out. Did you know everyone has a very specific pattern to their footfalls, which makes it easy for something with excellent hearing to pick out the individual based on how they walk? Neat, huh?

Brain, stop trying to distract me.

You need distracting.

Of course I don't. I'm a big, strong Shifter.

The healer slathers a solvent on my broken and aching ribs.

Need that distraction now!

But my brain is now a silent entity, pouting in the background of my subconscious. Idiot. I say to it.

You're talking to yourself, ya know.

Shut up.

The ointment burns somewhat happily through my system, yet in its wake leaves a numbness, helping my muscles slowly unclench. Gradually, the pain from my ribs dissipates enough for me to breathe shallowly without pain.

A small relief, as I feel fire and ice struggling in my veins, battling over which will kill me first. The ice flows, battling to reach my heart, which still pumps with sluggish actions, making it hard to think.

“Stay awake, stay awake, STAY AWAKE...” I chant as my teeth chatter from both pain and the wildfire battling the frigid cold.